The Hanging Hill Page 11
Derek chucked the script aside. Clutched the handgrip controller. Sent the monster truck zipping into an amazing one-eighty backward tailspin.
The elevator bell pinged. The cage door slid open.
“Hello, Derek.”
It was the director. Reginald Grimes.
Derek popped up. Waved. He was still holding the pistol grip controller in his hand.
“Working on your script?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Excellent.” Grimes walked up the hall. He had a slippery, loping kind of gait. Looked like a camel with a mustache.
“First of all, Derek, let me say how thrilled I am to have you in my cast. You were always my first choice for the role of Charlie.”
“Really? What about Brad Doyle?”
“Bah!” Grimes waved one arm dismissively. His other arm remained locked and frozen at his side. “Brad Doyle! That boy couldn’t act his way out of a paper bag.”
Derek smiled. It felt like it was his birthday. Maybe Christmas. “So you wanted me? Really?”
“Really! In fact, I don’t want to overburden your artistic talents, but…”
Derek stiffened his spine. “What is it, Mr. Grimes?”
“Well, I am considering expanding your role.”
“Really? Wow!”
“Yes. I’d like to attempt an artistic experiment. Make the part of Charlie a bit more dynamic. A bit more interesting.”
“Awesome, sir!”
“Of course, no one must know about this. As I said, it’s all very experimental. Very avant-garde.”
Derek had no idea what “avant-garde” meant but it sounded better than his mother’s constant reminders that he was a lousy actor, that he only got by on his dimples.
“I’m all about avant-garde, sir.”
“Excellent. Wonderful.” Grimes reached into a pocket with his good hand and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “You’re not to show this to anyone. Not your mother. Not Miss McKenna. Not the Jennings boy.”
“Of course not.”
“It’s in Latin.”
“Okay.”
“I spelled it out phonetically for you.”
“Thank you, sir. That was very kind of you.”
“Commit these new lines to memory before sundown.”
“No problem, Mr. Grimes. I’m a very quick study.”
“Excellent. See you at rehearsal.”
“Ten o’clock, sir. I’ll be there! And I’ll memorize all these new lines, too!”
“Wonderful.”
Wow.
This was it! His big break!
He really was a brilliant actor.
Reginald Grimes had said so!
57
Zack saw Meghan sitting on a sun-drenched bench in the lobby.
“Hey!” he said.
“Hi!” Meghan closed her script. “Do anything exciting last night?”
Zack shrugged. “Read a little. Watched an old movie on TV.”
Chatted with Justus Willowmeier III, Bartholomew Buckingham, and a whole bunch of other dead people.
Zack wanted to tell Meghan all about the theatrical ghosts he had seen swarming outside the theater last night. But Mr. Willowmeier had specifically told him not to say a word to Judy, Meghan, or even Derek about what he had seen and heard.
I’m afraid they may soon need the protection of a demon slayer even more than we do!
Why? Was there some sort of demonic conspiracy brewing against Curiosity Cat? Didn’t demons have more important stuff to do than mess around with musicals?
“So what’d you do last night?” Zack asked.
“Homework. Studied my lines.”
“Homework? In August?”
“The principal of my school doesn’t believe in summer vacations.”
“Your mom?”
“Yeah. So where’s your stepmom?”
“She went upstairs to talk to Mr. Grimes.”
“Oh,” said Meghan, “I almost forgot! I figured out why that girl downstairs was crying!”
“Yeah?”
“I think her name is Princess Nepauduckett. There was this etching that looked just like her—the buckskin dress, the beads, the hairdo—in this obscure Native American history book my mom brought back from the library.”
“Cool.”
“Not really. It was an etching of her execution. They hanged her for stealing food from the first settlers. The Pilgrims.”
Zack pretended to be surprised. “Really?”
“Yeah. Hey, I wonder if Princess Nepauduckett knows your Pilgrim Guy!”
“We’ll have to ask her next time we see her.”
“Yeah! We know where to find her. I figure she’s stuck downstairs.”
Zack wanted to say No. She also rides the elevator. Especially real early in the morning.
But he didn’t.
58
Reginald Grimes sat behind the cluttered desk in his office on the second floor, staring at the wall filled with framed posters from the many shows he had directed over the years: Put On Your Shoes; My Gal Sal; Sing, Sing, Sing.
All had received rave reviews.
All had brought him glory.
But none of those triumphs could compare with the glory awaiting him when the full August moon rose in the east and he, the anointed one, performed the sacred resurrection rite with the two children.
His worldly cares and concerns, his fears and his hates, his loneliness and isolation, all of it was fading away now.
He reached into a desk drawer and found the special hat Hakeem had given him to wear in his role as high priest. A purple turban with a luminous emerald clasp at its center. Just like his grandfather’s. He placed it on his head. Felt its plump lushness.
There was a knock at the door.
“Mr. Grimes?”
It was Judy Magruder Jennings. The author.
“Yes?”
She was staring at his hat.
“Is that a costume piece?”
“Yes.”
“For Curiosity Cat?”
“No.”
“Good. Because none of my characters is a genie.”
Grimes assumed that the woman was attempting to be funny.
“Is there something I can help you with, Ms. Jennings?”
“Yes. I wanted to talk to you before rehearsal. I don’t think the lyrics should be changed.”
“I see.”
“So I’m not going to change them.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“It was simply a suggestion.”
“Oh. Okay. Thanks.”
“Is that all?”
“Yep. See you at rehearsal. Ten a.m., right?”
Grimes nodded slowly. He wasn’t even there. Wasn’t really listening. The woman’s words sounded like the wahwah blaring from the bell of a muted trombone. Reginald Grimes cared nothing for Curiosity Cat or the Pandemonium Players or the playwright currently darkening his doorway.
He was the exalted one, the high priest of Ba’al Hammon—the voracious creator, king of the two regions, and ruler of the underworld!
59
Before, anyone, else arrived, while his mom was upstairs slathering on her last layer of face paint, Derek Stone had rehearsal room A all to himself.
He pulled out the secret script the director had just given him.
He stared at the paper.
Uh-oh.
The words were gobbledygook. Thank goodness for Mr. Grimes’s phonetic translations!
“O, magnus Molochus.”
What could it mean?
“Nos duo vitam nostram damus ut vos omnes qui hue arcessiti estis vivatis.”
Okay. Something about noses and dames, which was what they used to call girls in black-and-white movies.
The door swung open. Tomasino Carrozza came bounding into the room.
Derek hid the secret script in his pants.
He’d have to work on this later. No more monster truck. No more Burnout Do
minator on his PlayStation Portable. No more goofing off with Meghan and Zack down in the basement.
Derek Stone had work to do!
Reginald Grimes thought he was a great actor.
He had lots and lots and lots of work to do.
60
“Sorry if the room’s kind of messy,” the company manager said to the group of actors gathered around the snack table at the back of the rehearsal room. “Mr. Kimble, our custodian, didn’t show up for work today. First time that’s happened since forever.”
“You want a doughnut?” Judy asked Zack.
“No thanks.”
She looked at him. “You feeling okay, hon?”
“Never better.”
Zack wished he could tell Judy about all he had seen last night, because he and Judy had slain the demon of the crossroads together. Now, however, Mr. Willowmeier wanted Zack to fly solo. Why? Who knew? In Zack’s experience, ghosts had their own screwy reasons for doing what they did, even if it made very little sense to people on the other side of the dirt. It was what made phantoms so unfathomable.
He just wished one of the night fliers would drop by during the day and give him a solid hint about what it was he was actually supposed to do.
“This is so exciting!” said Judy, looking around the room. “Our first real rehearsal!”
“Yeah. Maybe I will grab a doughnut.”
“Okay. Then come sit next to me at my table, okay?”
“Okay.”
Judy went to greet her composer, who was spreading out sheet music on the piano.
“Five hundred people auditioned for my part,” Zack heard one of the actors say. “I was honored to be chosen.”
“Especially by Reginald Grimes!” gushed an actress. “I heard he saw a thousand women for my role.”
Zack wondered if anybody else had “auditioned” for his role as demon slayer. If so, maybe his understudy could go on, because Zack wasn’t sure he wanted to do whatever it was Justus Willowmeier III and the other dearly departed show people wanted him to do.
He didn’t want to keep dealing with the demands of the dead. In fact, he wanted dead people to leave him alone. He wanted to be an ordinary kid!
Of course, Zack still wasn’t 100-percent convinced that he had seen what he thought he had seen last night. It might’ve been an incredibly bad dream.
Maybe he and Zipper had never even left his bed or seen Princess Nepauduckett dangling in the elevator or met all those other ghosts outside.
But what if it was true?
What if Meghan, Derek, and Judy needed him to be a demon slayer—just like Mr. Willowmeier had said they did?
Zack grabbed two doughnuts.
61
Reginald Grimes swept into the rehearsal room, followed by his assistant, Hakeem.
“People?” said Hakeem, clapping his hands. “We have much work to do today. Where’s Miss McKenna?”
On cue, Meghan bolted through the door, followed by her mom.
“Sorry. I have a slight problem with the snooze function on alarm clocks.”
“Deal with it!” snapped Grimes as he glowered at Mrs. McKenna. “Who, pray tell, are you?”
“I’m Meghan’s mom.”
“Why are you here?”
“Uh,” said Meghan, “she’s my mom?”
The door flew open again and Mrs. Stone stumbled into the room, teetering on six-inch high heels.
“Good morning!” When she flashed her glossy smile, Zack saw lipstick on her beaver-sized teeth.
“And who are you?” demanded Grimes.
“That’s my mom, sir!” said Derek.
Mrs. Stone toddled forward. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Grimes!”
He ignored her and slumped down into his metal folding chair.
“Announcement!” said Grimes. “Tonight, I’m hosting a small private party to honor our two youngest stars—Meghan McKenna and Derek Stone!”
“Sounds like fun!” said Derek.
“Oh, it will be,” said Grimes. “I promise. Only the children are invited. Let’s meet at seven p.m. out in the lower lobby.”
“Where’s the party?” asked Mrs. Stone.
“Downstairs. We’ve set up a room.”
“In the basement?” Mrs. Stone sounded skeptical.
“It’s cool down there!” said Derek.
Grimes smiled. “This party is really for the children, Mrs. Stone. Ice cream and cake. Pizza. That sort of thing.”
“But we can come, too?”
Grimes hesitated, then smiled. “Of course. We look forward to the pleasure of your company. And now, will all those not directly involved with Curiosity Cat please leave the room?”
“Excuse me?” said Mrs. Stone.
“This is a closed rehearsal!” announced Hakeem. “Anyone not in the cast or in the crew must vacate this room. Immediately!”
Judy turned to Zack. “I could skip this first rehearsal.”
“No way,” said Zack. “This is the whole reason we’re here. Zipper and I will be fine. We’ll probably just hang out upstairs.”
“You sure, Zack?”
“I’m heading over to the library,” said Mrs. McKenna. “You’re welcome to join me there, Zack.”
“Thanks.”
“Mrs. Jennings?” Grimes said crossly. “Are we ready to proceed?”
“I guess.”
“See ya later, Mom.”
Then Zack, Mrs. McKenna, and Mrs. Stone hurried out the door.
62
“I have never been thrown out of a rehearsal in my life!” fumed Mrs. Stone.
“My first time, too,” said Zack. They were standing in the lower lobby outside the closed doors to rehearsal room A.
“Would you like to join me at the library?” Mrs. McKenna asked Mrs. Stone.
“Why?”
“You might find a book.”
“And?”
“Right. Okay. See you back here at seven.”
That got Mrs. Stone’s motor running. “I don’t have a thing to wear!” She clicked away on her high heels.
“How about you, Zack? Want to hit the library?”
“Maybe later. I need to take Zipper out for a walk.”
“Okay. Do you know where the library is?”
Zack nodded even though he had no idea where it was located.
He nodded because the ghost of Bartholomew Buckingham had just materialized over Mrs. McKenna’s left shoulder.
“What ho, Demon Slayer!”
Apparently, it hadn’t been a nightmare.
63
Zack waited for Mrs. McKenna to head up the curving stairway to the main lobby.
She, being an adult who wasn’t Judy, hadn’t seen or heard the swaggering ghost, his lantern jaw set on “heroic,” his hands firmly planted at his hips.
“Uh, I gotta go.” Zack bolted for the door they had used yesterday to head down the spiral staircase and explore the basement.
He slammed it behind him.
“What ho, Zachary!”
Buckingham was waiting for him on the other side.
“My, but thou art a nimble-footed knave!” He dipped into a bow that involved a lot of hand flourishes in front of his face. “I am your hoped-for guide spirit, here to assist you.”
“What?”
“Did you not recently wish that one of the night fliers would drop by during the day to give you a solid hint about what it is you are actually supposed to do?”
Busted.
“Yeah. So, what am I supposed to do?”
Buckingham struck his hands-on-hips pose again. “Why, slay the demons.”
“Right. But how?”
“That I cannot say.”
“Why not?”
“Rules. Regulations. Those of us who tarry amidst the earthly ether are prohibited from directly interfering with mortal life.”
“Listen, Mr. Buckingham, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
That puzzled him. “You are Zachary Jennings, are you not?”
“Yeah, but…”
“You are the hero of the crossroads, is this not also true?”
“Kind of …”
“You, bonny lad, are special.”
“Hey, I never asked to be special, okay?”
Buckingham nodded knowingly. “And I never asked to be ruggedly handsome, but, alas, as you can plainly see, I am.”
“Look, I’m just a kid.”
“Tut-tut. We have no time for modesty. In fact we have very little time for anything! You have less than nine hours.”
“What? There’s a time limit?”
“Indeed. Now then, I am not allowed to tell you all that I know.” Buckingham leaned in to whisper. “How ever, my spies report seeing two burly ruffians secreting a theatrical trunk deep within the bowels of this basement.”
“The what?”
“Sorry. The innermost recesses of the theater’s subterranean maze of storage rooms and hidden tunnels.”
“I really think you people should find someone else.”
“Fie upon it! Screw your courage to the sticking place, Zachary! We need you. Meghan needs you. Derek and Judy, too.”
“Are they in trouble?”
“I am not at liberty to divulge—”
“Are they in trouble?”
Buckingham first looked around to see if anyone was listening. Then he nodded frantically and mouthed a silent Yes!
“What kind of trouble?”
“The worst sort! Find the trunk, Zack! And beware Pandemonium!”
“Why do people keep saying that?”
“What?”
“‘Beware Pandemonium.’”
“Good question. I, forsooth, can not answer it.”
“Fine. Then I’ll just have to find out for myself.”
“Huzzah! That’s the spirit, lad!”
For the second time in one day, Zack realized he had accidentally said yes to something he really didn’t want to do.
64
Reginald Grimes sat at the head table in the rehearsal room, pretending to listen to the actors reading their parts out loud.
He would probably give up show business when he became a billionaire. He wouldn’t have time to direct vain and immature actors. He would have a multinational empire to rule. An army of demonic mercenaries to command.